We wrote from the prompt: Ask me… and got some strong responses with this.

From strength to strength, we went on to experience the power of Maya Angelou, by reading ‘Still I Rise’ and chatted about it.

We had a read of an item from the Scottish Recovery website, Write to Recovery, called: ‘Eat a frog’ about anxiety- eating the frog is one step in breaking through something you are worried about- and relates to the technique of thinking of a big problem as an elephant, How do you eat an elephant? In small chunks.

My suggestion for home writing was: What are your frogs or elephants?Only a suggestion, as we can write whatever we want and know it is right!

More mental wealth at The Hope Cafe next week! Anyone can write, please come along!

I rejoined my old writing group this week, after an absence of a year due to being over committed time-wise. It was so good to be back with old friends, sharing our home-written poems and prose, in a gentle and supportive setting. We take turns to facilitate the group, which has been going for many years- it was founded by Larry Butler and Kay Carmichael and we used to meet in Kay’s kitchen in Bank Street.

This group has helped me to find my voice, with much encouragement from the others. We usually bring a copy for everyone, read it aloud then the author stays quiet while the rest of the group are talking about it. We follow a format asking : what it is about; then what we find striking about each piece; then ways we may change it if it was our poem; the author responds to comments at the end.

We spend time writing on a prompt from whoever is leading that week. Someone also prepares a new writer to bring to introduce to the group. Tonight we heard about William Stafford, and I was inspired by his journalling for many many years of his life.I recommend his poems to everyone.

Just started reading 'Germinal 'by Emile Zola, inspired by watching a film about artist Cezanne and Zola, who were friends. Germinal is about mining and poverty. It's written in what Zola called a Naturalistic style, it's very realistic! I skipped the long introduction, but expect to find out more about Zola's life and politics as I read on.Coming from Blantyre, a mining village in Lanarkshire, reading this has made me remember that my dad and two grandfathers were miners, also my step-Grandad, Wattie who helped to bring me up. I had a massive input from him ; he was a communist. The telling of this tale has made me actually go into the mine and scrunch myself into a ball, hunkering down under the walls to chip out some coal.It's fairly harrowing.So, from this,I wrote a poem today:

Buried beneath the earth,without a breath of fresh air,miners coal-tapping.

Fearing the world will fallon their heads suffocatingminers fighting for all.

Squatting; back-breaking work,no other choice for a living.Compressed; lung-black; stuck.

My father and grandfathers sat thereEnduring. Direst of dire.Nae wonder they were dour.

Their only fire, a lamp.no dry places, all were damp.

And, empty of all uplift,-but walking out of there,believing heaven waits.